To Live
by BlondeChick2009
Summary: Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil. Do not taste or touch it. Evil is everywhere. So is Change. Drabbles that will cater to my poor Bethyl babies.
1. Chapter 1

**Because I like being sad, apparently.**

**The other senses to come.**

**Chapter 1: Scent**

She could still smell it.

Bloody decay; scorched earth and flesh. Dirt kicked up under dragging, dead feet. Putrefaction seeping up through grass, blanketing farm-fresh summers and that distinct winter bite that froze your lungs when you breathed in too much of it.

The stink had them all wrinkling their noses in misery for the first few months of—whatever this was.

Even now, well into the future, Beth wrinkled her nose as the old scent of death lingered on the breeze. It followed them everywhere they went. It had hung in the still air of the prison cells; old and musty, not so obvious, but still there.

Maybe it wasn't following them. Maybe, now, they were just in it.

In any case, it had seemed like it had chased her through the trees when the prison fell. Aware of too many things and absolutely nothing at all, that fucking _stench _slogged after her and Daryl as they fled further from the devastation.

Her father's death was on the wind, now, too.

She smelled it in the vomit she couldn't hold down any longer, in the dead leaves she heaved into. The pine didn't mask the burning in her nose and eyes.

She smelled it in her starvation, because nothing more was coming out of her. Daryl waited, eyes shifting relentlessly over the bent and shaking girl and the direction of his lost family. The danger.

When they ran again, Beth wondered if he could smell it, too. The sorrow.

...

The smell invaded the trunk of the car they huddled in. The swarm groaned by, death rolling on its way, astonishingly passing by two prone survivors.

The trunk held its own miasma of scents, but Beth was starting to wonder if she could actually smell anything anymore or her brain had just burned the funk into her nostrils.

Sweat, blood, rotting flesh.

Like an animal, Beth thought for a moment, she could smell the tang of fear. It was almost exciting, to smell something new.

She shifted her weight as the dead things ebbed around them. Suddenly, in that small space, she caught the scent of the forest, and it didn't hold death in its roots.

...

The moonshine's fierce bite almost makes her sneeze into her glass. Daryl grunts in what might be amusement, and, as a result, Beth almost smiles.

The wind kicks up, and that smell wafts against her, but it is fainter now.

She smells the squirrel Daryl had caught and cooked, long since eaten.

Again the scent rises when Daryl becomes angry with her. Outside, Beth's nose spasms at the walker Daryl pins to a tree. The arrow sticks it good. She smells the dead thing, and the hopelessness is suffocating.

When she buries her face into Daryl's back, her arms going unflinchingly around his waist, Beth smells motor oil, sweat, leather, and smoke. She takes the deepest breath she has in ages.

...

Beth smells it in the peanut butter and pickled feet. Even though her nose wrinkles at such a thing, her lips curve into a genuine smile.

She smells it in the residual formaldehyde, and the once sickening smell of that is even welcomed after the violent death outside.

...

She smells it in the darkness of the kitchen—leather, oil, smoke—and the burning of the candles.

Change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Taste**

She missed lemonade.

Judith cried beside her in the little bed, and Beth licked her lips as the daydream of the sweet and bitey drink dissolved.

...

She tasted disappointment in the bland oatmeal scrounged from the kitchens of the prison. Everyone pretended not to notice the dissatisfaction each bowl brought. Their bellies were full, that was what mattered.

But Beth couldn't help mentioning lemonade and Maggie smiled sadly at her. Glenn picked up the game at once. He missed Pizza. Carl said something about pudding and everyone laughed. Even though the oatmeal was filling, everyone felt their stomachs growl at the reminder of Before.

...

Beth was glad she couldn't taste the death around them. She cried herself to sleep at night, every night, since her father was taken from her. Since Maggie was missing, and Judith was gone. Daryl slept next to her on the miserable forest floor, but there was little comfort there. The man was just as silent and broken as she was, even if he didn't let on. She knew.

She tasted the salt of her tears as they slid over her dry lips. She wondered if it was possible to find nourishment from salt, and her stomach whined at her. Her lips parted and she groaned.

...

The next day, Daryl cooks up a snake and while Beth's insides growl as loud as any walker, her mind rebels. Daryl smirks and chews away.

Beth wants to ask what it tastes like, but doesn't. Chicken, she guesses. Or, god forbid, lemonade. She takes a bite. It's not that bad.

...

Her taste buds scream for alcohol. Or maybe her mind does. The peach schnapps sounds promising, and Beth tries to ignore her watering mouth at the thought of real Georgia peaches. Daryl isn't considering her taste buds, though, when he refuses to let her drink it.

...

The moonshine washes down her throat, abominable. This over peaches? Her tongue and stomach are on fire, but her brain doesn't seem to mind too much. Daryl doesn't flinch as he takes a gulp, and she wonders if he tastes something sweeter than she does. Maybe forgetting.

...

The jelly is a god send. The soda, too.

Beth pulls a face as Daryl practically inhales the pig's feet. Snake was one thing, but this little hors d'oeuvre she flat out refuses.

She licks the peanut butter from her finger, and is reminded of home, but this time the memory isn't so painful.

She hums happily.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sound**

The hissing and growling plagued her nightmares, as well as those of the others, Beth was certain. Even so, it had been a fairly long time since she had woken sweating, chest heaving, from the phantom sounds. Her body could now distinguish them from the real threat.

Every so often, Beth heard the screams from her past, too. These she tried to drown in song.

...

She hoped that everyone else took as much comfort in her singing as she did. The last thing Beth wanted was to annoy her cellmates.

The prison was quiet. At least it was now. The skirmish with the inmates and the emergency with her father's leg had echoed through the halls for several days after the group's arrival. Now the noisiest thing was their 'Lil Ass Kicker.

...

She heard it in her thudding heart and feet as she and Daryl raced through the forest. She heard it roaring after her…the swing of Michonne's sword as the Governor killed her father…Maggie's screams unifying with her own…the shooting…the yelling…Daryl shouting at her to follow…

She heard it in the dry sob that broke the night air as the pair came to a crashing halt. And it was there in her half concealed crying when they tried to sleep.

...

Daryl's silence rang in her ears. They weren't a very good team. She suggested a game of I Never in attempt to get him to talk. He had never been very verbose with her—or anyone for that matter—but the silence was too much.

His shouts and anger burned her ears worse, though. She hadn't meant to make him angry—she hadn't meant what she'd said.

And then she hears something new in his sobs. A sound she never had thought possible. So she throws her arms around him and listens to the heaving breaths beneath her ear.

...

The snap of the bear trap is almost as horrible as the pain. She can hear the dull thud of the wound as Daryl pries the old thing open. Beth tries not to cry too hard.

She hears something almost soft in Daryl's request for her to hop on his back, and her giggle is heard by the both of them.

...

The funeral home is quiet, but not like the forest. It's peaceful. Beth hears safety.

Later, the piano, while maybe slightly out of tune, takes her back to the farm. She's sad, but relieved. Daryl listens, even requests that she keeps playing, and Beth plays.

...

Beth hears the answer in his mumble, but thinks maybe she heard wrong. The sound of hope.

...

The dog barks.

...

The hissing and growling is back and Daryl is telling her to run and Beth hears her fear reaching terrible decibels.

...

The screech of brakes comes a moment too late, and Beth hears her body hit the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, lovelies :) This one was a bit tough for me. Ultimately my goal for these is to not think too much and to just go. So I hope they're good in their sloppiness. **

**...**

**Touch~**

The bed is hard.

So are Dawn's blows against her cheek. Occasionally they draw blood, and Beth can feel the unnerving trickle run down her face.

…

_Daryl's vest under her cheek is a comfort. Her arms around his waist tighten, if only to pull his shaking sobs closer to her, to still them. _

…

The thrashing girl almost makes Beth sick to her stomach. Her body strains to keep the bitten woman down as they amputate, and Beth tries to ignore the warmth of the blood pouring from the wound.

…

_His hand grips her wrists tighter as he pulls her around, shouting at her to take the crossbow. It hurts so bad…she tears away from him, taking note of her first lesson in survival._

Gorman's hands on her make Beth's very skin recoil. She wants to fold in on herself; to melt away from his intruding touch.

She feels the jar of lollipops in her hands, feels the blow shake her entire arm.

The closed door against her back steadies her, and she ignores the pounding of her heart against her chest, and she walks away.

…

_The weight of the bow will take some getting used to. Having Daryl behind her makes her feel safe, but she still can't help but brag. She feels his eyes size her up while she treads ahead._

She feels the air around her, like it's lit up with lightning. Dangling down and down and down into the dank elevator shaft with Noah makes her all too aware of her livelihood.

…

When she hits the pavement, and the officer's hands hold her down, Beth feels herself smile because Noah is running. She isn't lost yet.

…

Her stomach drops when Carol is wheeled in on the stretcher; she feels icy cold.

When she holds the key to the medicine cabinet, Beth's knees nearly give out in relief, and a slight glimmer of hope flares in her chest.

…

_Beth is hyper-aware of his stare. What changed your mind? Warmth creeps into her face and seeps into her bones and her heart gives a funny little flutter that shouldn't have a place amongst the walking dead._

…

And that flutter again, when she passes by him in the hospital hallway, the press of the scissors in her cast lessening the more steps she takes into the realm of security her family provides.

And then betrayal as Dawn calls Noah to her.

Fear, for what she is about to do, but also bravery, because she finally understands what it takes to be alive in this world, but to still be you.

…

She felt a collision of sorts, and then nothing else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the last installment of my Beth POV drabbles. So, yes, there's to be a sequel of sorts from Daryl's POV because let's cry some more shall we?**

**Sight~**

Beth has never thought she'd miss the green of the trees after more than a year of running.

She stares at the plain white and gray walls of the hospital and pines for the blue Georgia sky and brown dirt and yellow sun.

She closes her eyes and basks in the memory of the jewel bright paint glinting off of abandoned cars and trucks.

The only vibrant color she has seen here is red, and even that isn't shocking anymore.

…

_Maggie's grin, Glenn's face tilted back in laughter, Judith's crinkled smile._

_Her father's wise, proud face and snow white beard. Beth stares and stares and stares at these moments, etching them into her memory._

_Rick's stern expression as he watches Carl rake through the garden._

_A journal she might lose. Her eyes give her everything._

…

Atlanta is a ruin.

Scorch marks on the ground, dead walkers with spilling guts.

Gore had never been something she could bear to see. Even helping her dad at the veterinary clinic hadn't been easy.

But now it just blends right into the scenery.

…

_Dirty angel wings lead the way._

_She finds that if she keeps her eyes locked on those wings, everything behind her sort of disappears._

…

The darkness engulfs the man she watches plummet to his death. Beth barely blinks. Dawn appears before her, thankfulness on her lips.

Beth feels her eyes slide right past the other woman.

…

_Seeing Daryl lie down in the coffin curls Beth's insides. She can't stand the idea of him dead, no matter how peaceful he looks. The vision brings forth a selfishness she isn't used to feeling. She doesn't want this man to die. She'd keep him here beside her in this world of horror if only to see him every day._

…

Carol is up and in a wheel chair, and the two look at each other as though they might quench a scratching thirst. Beth blinks away the water in her eyes.

…

_The golden glow of the candle light throws Daryl's face into semi-shadow, but Beth discovers she cannot look away. The answer to her question is writ plain upon the face she has come to know so well, and she thinks that maybe she can see his soul through that look. _

_…_

Daryl's blue eyes seem stuck on her as she crosses the threshold between the two groups. She can barely look elsewhere. But then Noah is passing by her.

Dawn's eyes are wide and questioning and everything Beth sees there is a lie. The glint of the scissors seems to trigger a slowing of time.

…

_"Oh."_

…

And there's light.


End file.
